RIC S. BASTASA

88142 - Poem by RIC S. BASTASA

Autoplay next video

WE'RE NOT THE ELITE

whatever little we havewe give to everyone:

the old man without a cane, a woman without a face, a seaman without a compass, a child without a crib, even to the rich man without a heartor those who without feet dance with the godsnymphs without wingssatyrs without their hoofs, to the dogs without voicessome left-overs,

whatever word we have we soweven to hostile fields of snowwhatever warmth we have we dissipateeven to rails whose arms are numb to the winds

we are nobodywe have names that do not ring a bell to youyet we givewe do not storewe spread

we sufferand in the hope that whatever flies away from usshall diminishthese painswe dream of wingswe acquire themonly to be given awayto birdswhose wingsare clippedby you.